


Honey Trap

by Arithanas



Category: Arrow & The Flash (CW)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5056174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some situations cannot be chalked up to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [willowcabins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcabins/gifts).



“I’m asking it in _Ta-er al-Safar_ ’s behalf,” those were the only worlds Nyssa al Ghul uttered, and Laurel still wondered why such a simple sentence still has that kind of power over her.

There was no use wondering about it anymore; they had struck a bargain and Laurel was ready to see it through the end.

Whichever the end would be.

Laurel rested her weight against the cantilever and watched with intent how Nyssa trod the footpath ten feet below, in her way to her assignment. Laurel's head was half abstracted in the way the soft fabric hugged that short red dress, the other half kept an eye on the brutes who guarded the gate.

Nyssa's mission was simple: come and kill the League’s target. It was a run-of-the-mill task; a boring and simple chore that would be clinched in two heartbeats and which will not drag a trail of remorse in its wake. Nothing to worry anyone about it, especially not Diggle and Thea.

They had enough troubles as it was…

Laurel watched how Nyssa was vouched for, and how the park access was granted. Soon, she would be out of sight and Laurel’s part was to keep an eye on Nyssa and to provide reinforcements if needed.

Laurel smiled at the absurd idea. Nyssa, demonstrably, it was more than able to take care of herself; such idea renewed that gnawing doubt: What was Laurel doing there?

The nagging feeling of being a willing accessory to a proved criminal without enough information accompanied Laurel as she jumped downwards, using the abseiling equipment she settled earlier that day. Diggle was a thorough and indefatigable teacher, she was not afraid for her safety. The cold cutting wind caressed her suit, tousled her wig and made her feel alive like a lifetime ago she was not feeling.

The first contact with the ground renewed the suspicion. Nyssa had an army at her beck and call. Where was the League of Assassins?

Trying to keep her head in the game proved to be a dismaying task, even if the road was trodden again and again in her mind for over a week. Laurel mustered enough momentum, jumping the fence was child's play, rolling in the soft and barely damp grass was a welcomed break for the fall. Laurel crawled until the trees were enough to hide her pass.

If only her mind was as disciplined as her body…

Trying to silence the sound of her footsteps among leaf litter, Laurel moved toward the light.Nyssa had been short on details and Laurel considered her words again. Nyssa had never said that this was a matter of the League,and even if it were not so, Laurel could think of several criminals more suitable to help her endeavor; all of them available for money and a phone call.

The central gazebo was lighted as if to be the setting for a dream wedding. Nyssa was sat on a long chair; her feet were comfortable set on a box, a box with slots, as if it were a pet carrier for a Great Dane. Nyssa spoke a strange language to a man whose receding hair, the part Laurel could see, was silver and fine. The suit was expensive…

Some details were missing, the scene was nothing Laurel could have imagined and it unraveled even before she could make herself an idea of what was going there.

The men appeared first ―six of them, armed to war— from the center of the park toward the gazebo, running on a compact group that began to unfold to wrap the target. . The move was planned and Nyssa was right to call for reinforcements

With a liquid movement, Nyssa jumped over the box and took out a couple of sharp knives from their concealed sheaths inside her little dress; but those weapons wouldn’t be enough against the half dozen of submachine guns pointed in her direction.

Laurel took her decision in a New York minute, her hand slid over her hip and a simple flick of the wrist was enough to send the sonic device in straight line to the melee. Nyssa will certainly forgive Laurel for saving her skin.

Nyssa’s voice didn’t sound happy, but it was drowned by the sound of rapid-fire machine guns shooting.

Between shooting bursts, Laurel notice small details: the way Nyssa avoided the first volley of bullets and swatted the sonic device behind the enemy lines. The man in the suit wiped out a pistol and pointed it toward the box. The splatter of blood…

Laurel took her side-handle batons and joined the fight. Her attention span was brief and wide, she didn’t remark the amount of steps she took, but when the hardened wood was brought down to the arm which wielded the gun, she was keenly aware of the sound of the bones crackling under the combined force of the weapon and her force. Later, the sound would be sweeter; in the heat of moment it was disgusting. The rest of the combat was a blur of ricocheting bullets and blunt weapons meeting resistance against solid bodies.

Nyssa was not even panting when she knelt in front of the box; Laurel wondered when she had slashed the man in the suit’s throat. From the box, the shaking figure of a terrified woman emerged and, suddenly, some things ―terrible, horrible things— made sense to Laurel. 

 


	2. The Aftermath

Nyssa was not even panting when she knelt in front of the box; Laurel wondered when she had slashed the man in the suit’s throat. From the box the shaking figure of a terrified woman emerged and, suddenly, some things made sense.

“I had to plead your help in her name,” Nyssa explained, her long, bare legs extended on Laurel’s bed. “For she was the only reason I could take notice of this scum…”

“How did you find this?” Laurel asked and extended her foot to caress Nyssa’s shin.

“I didn’t. Sin called me.”

“You promised my sister to care for the women of Star City…”

Laurel didn’t know if she was marveled or just too damned tired. Bed was welcoming, the bath was glorious and Nyssa, nude on her bed... The whole situation was too much to her senses. Nyssa reclined her weight toward Laurel’s body, her skin was clean and smelled sweet, so different from the blood and dirt she smelled before.

“I pledged my word to take care of you, too.”

“You can’t,” Laurel mouthed, “Not in Nanda Parbat, half a world away from me.”

“You don’t need me to, small bird,” Nyssa said, her fingers made their way to Laurel’s hair. “Sarah wasn’t aware of how strong you are. How capable…”

“Nyssa, please…”

“Command, I hear you.”

“Stay…”

“It didn’t work for Malcolm when he tried, he would make sure it wouldn’t work for me…”

“Then, stay the night. Talk me of her, talk me of you…”

“I’ll tell you of the broken bird I found, of the friend I have lost…”

Laurel wasn’t sure of what she was doing, and to be honest she didn’t care. She pushed forward and let her lips kiss Nyssa’s as they have done so many times before. Nyssa broke the contact, a faint blush appeared on her cheeks, but her voice was proper and collected.

“Or I can show you, if that’s your fancy.”

The answer was one hand behind Nyssa’s head, a couple of lips searching for a kiss. Laurel’s mind chalked it up to the turmoil of the night, to the loneliness of her bed, to the need to feel protected and in danger at the same time. Kissing Nyssa was like taking a long gulp of brandy and, like she did in her heyday, Laurel wanted to welcome the intoxication.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
